


Heavy head, and head spinning

by carimasali



Series: Too many days until retirement [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Friendship, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Potions, Substance Abuse, and others might come along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16343927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carimasali/pseuds/carimasali
Summary: McGonagall is oddly irritated by a teacher she admires, and James gets sedated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A longer story that follows after the previous installments. You don't need to read the others to understand this fic, but I won't complain if you do and leave a review ;) 
> 
> That being said, I tried to keep the tags from spoiling anything, but there are some things I feel I needed to warn you about. I even raised the rating, just in case.
> 
> I used the Harry Potter wikia for things like the Wizengamot and stuff.

A new Hogwarts year brought a new teacher for the ever-cursed Defense against the Dark Arts. It was none but Margania Graham, great auror and the first woman to hold a seat as Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot. McGonagall had immense respect for her, had read all her books, especially her book on Defense for the Amateurs, an ‘ _instructional book for the common wizard and witch to defend themselves in the hopefully low chance they are attacked at home, on the streets or while they are on a broom._ ’ McGonagall had a hard-copy – not signed, mind you; McGonagall wasn’t like that to ask for any signature. She followed her column on the Daily Prophet and listened whenever she gave an interview on the Wizarding Wireless Network News.

What a shame she had to occupy the ‘cursed’ position as a teacher for this subject. McGonagall was very skeptical when it came to curses that affected positions and not individuals. It was true, no teacher had lasted longer than a year since… well, a few decades, but it was a difficult subject; and McGonagall believed that if you immersed yourself in something as dark as… the Dark Arts, even if it was solely for defensive purposes, it would have a bad effect on you. Just like the Potions Masters got ill after taking in toxic fumes for decades.

Cursed or not, she doubted Margania Graham would stay in Hogwarts for long; she was too good for the position. Not that being a teacher was any less challenging than being an Auror or a high member of the Wizengamot (especially with _those four_ being in Hogwarts), but they came with their own, very different set of challenges. The worst McGonagall had to fear was some student letting lose a troll in the Dungeons or slipping from the Astronomy Tower (happened before); Margania, she was sure, had to face tons of death-threats every day with her high-ranking position in the Wizarding World.

*

McGonagall shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she took notice of _those four_ at their table. Of all days it had to be today. Sure, nothing bad had happened yet; no one had set off fireworks or made their cups explode with a trumpet-like echo, or hexed purple whiskers on a poor student’s face.

That’s because they’re three, not four, she thought. Of course! _Lupin_ , he was… discomposed. Maybe that was the reason for their calmness. They probably didn’t want to cause any scene without their dear friend present. That was… sweet.

McGonagall turned to her new colleague, still keeping an eye on _those four_ – three.

“I heard your decision to join Hogwarts was made quite suddenly,” she said.

Ms. Margania (as she preferred to be called by her colleagues) nodded slowly, lips touching her cup. “There was another project I was considering,” she said, “but it didn’t work out.”

McGonagall wasn’t too sure she liked what she implied; that she took the position as teacher, because there wasn’t anything better to be had.

“Surely the Wizengamot keeps you busy,” she said, tone an inch cooler than before.

Ms. Margania only raised a delicate brow, but didn’t give any other sign she had noticed her change in tone. “It does, but as you know the Wizengamot is very well organized at times, and members do relieve each other from their duties, sometimes. And I’m not Chief Warlock anymore, so that relieves me of many duties. I’ve had more time on my hands this past year than… in those three years I was in that position.”

McGonagall nodded. “Well, if you take your job as a teacher seriously you’ll see how busy you’ll be.”

She smiled. “That’s what I’m hoping.” Her eyes wandered from table to table, observing the students. “Any advice?”

“Concerning what?”

“Your students.”

“Mr. Caviz died about half-way into the second half of the year,” McGonagall said. “He was ill and old,” she added at Margania’s odd look. “He kept classes mostly theoretical, so there might be a lot of catching up to do.”

“Hm, and your students?”

“We have a lot,” she said.

“I can see that,” she replied, as dryly as McGonagall had. “Any trouble-makers I have to watch out for?”

Her thoughts immediately conjured the image of _those four_ , but she made an effort to be fair. “There’s a difference between trouble-makers in class and outside of class,” she answered. “You have to be careful, because not all students are equal. Some take longer to learn, others manage the spells almost by instinct.” Pettigrew and Black came into mind. “The challenge will be to keep them all on the same level.

“Homework is another challenge. You’ll learn that some which do almost perfect in class, butcher their homework as if they’re just learning to write – or did their homework on the last minute.” She thought of Potter, who always did exceptionally well in class, but his homework was always illegible and with gross grammatical errors.

Ms. Margania smiled. “I remember school, McGonagall,” she replied. “And I remember what you were like, too.”

McGonagall huffed. “I always did well in class and on my homework.”

“I didn’t,” Margania said, nipping her drink. “But I did well in life.”

McGonagall’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”

“But you didn’t answer my actual question,” she said with a small smile. “I know about all the challenges a student can face in class, because I’ve been on both ends – the good and the bad student; but you didn’t tell me what students I should watch out for.”

“Watch out for,” McGonagall snorted. “These are children, not criminals, Margania.”

“I’ll have you know, many troublemakers in school become troublemakers in life later, Minerva.”

“Well that is the wrong attitude, _Margania_ ,” she said, coldly, and took a deep breath. “There is no point in arguing about this. All you should know is this: treat your students fairly and they’ll respect you. I’ll be the first to admit, there are a few repeat-offenders, but it’s the usual pranks-”

Her lips curled. “Hm, the usual pranks…that would be…”

“Oh the usual jinks: turning people’s hair purple, jinxing people so their heads grow like balloons; scaring off Mrs. Norris; ignoring curfew…”

“Hm, am I right to assume the usual culprits are boys?”

“Well, yes, but you know how boys are at that age.”

She raised a brow. “Turning people’s hair purple, torturing a cat, twisting the natural features of a human person…”

McGonagall frowned at her.

“… do they also pull at the girls’ hair?”

“You know what they’re like,” McGonagall said. “And you know what the girls do then.”

Margania said nothing, so McGonagall saw herself compelled to answer her own question. “They kick them and hex them. Seriously, you cannot compare school with the streets. If you do you’ll start seeing dark wizards everywhere.”

Margania shrugged. “You have heard the rumours, Minerva,” was the only thing she said, and McGonagall dropped the subject.

*

Of course, dinner would have been incomplete without a bit of drama. At some point, right after Dumbledore had finished his welcome speech, those four – three covered themselves with their hoods, until their faces where almost invisible, and stood up with a dramatic air.

McGonagall’s body became as tense as a board. Her eyes followed their every step forward, and one by one the rest of the student body caught on this odd situation; they gradually fell silent.

The three reached the teachers’ table, and stood solemnly before Dumbledore, whose beard trembled dangerously, and whose eyes twinkled. If McGonagall could, she would have killed him then and there.

The three boys cleared their throat, and as one (she suspected Potter) took out a stick with a picture of Remus Lupin, and another (Peter Pettigrew, naturally) took out a stick with Remus Lupin’s name written in large letters, the other (Sirius Black, of course) announced loud and clear,

“We shall fast for our dear friend Remus Lupin!”

Pettigrew and Potter hit the floor with their sticks. “Remus Lupin!”

McGonagall lowered her head.

“And if you don’t…” Black raised his fist, long sleeve slipping and revealing a pale arm. “Thou be damned!”

“Thou be damned!” They hit the floor with the sticks again, and shuffled out of the hall like repentant monks.

Dumbledore looked delighted and chuckled under his beard, but McGonagall… McGonagall was enraged and embarrassed, which one she felt more strongly was hard to tell.

She wanted to punch Dumbledore for taking this so lightly. Sometimes she felt like he didn’t take the boys seriously at all. She hated always being the bad witch; when was his turn?

She heard Margania snort beside her, and looked at her.

“Boys will be boys, huh, Minerva?”

McGonagall ignored her for the rest of the night.  


	2. Chapter 2

“I wish they’d serve us coffee,” sighed James, mussing his hair. “I’m in the real mood for coffee right now.”

“You’re _twelve_ , Potter,” Marlene McKinnon said, showing up out of nowhere it seemed.

Sirius nudged his best friend. “I always forget you’re the youngest,” he said over Peter’s snickering. “In less than two months I’ll be a whole year older than you!”

James rolled his eyes and elbowed Sirius, who returned the gesture with the same sentiment. Then he turned to Marlene, who was peacefully eating her fruit salad. “You know you’re not allowed to sit with us, right?”

“I know, and I don’t care usually about your dumb rule, but I don’t want to be with the girls right now.”

“What, another bird fight?”

“ _Cat_ fight, mate,” Sirius supplied.

She gave James an impressive glare, despite her milk-mustache. Her hand was still blindly reaching for her napkin – which James had switched with a slice of cheese. “For the record, we fought over you.”

“Me?” asked James with a hand on his chest, reminding Marlene a lot of his mother.

She nodded haughtily. “Over you and Sirius to be exact. They were sayin’ how Professor Gra- er, Professor _Margana_ -”

“Margania,” Peter corrected.

“Stupid name,” mumbled Marlene and sighed deeply. “The girls were saying that Professor Marg _ania_ was right in taking points off of you and being so cross an’ all that.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t like her.”

Peter frowned. “Who?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Margana, of course.”

“Margania,” corrected Sirius. “Why do you hate her anyway? She likes _you!_ ”

She scowled. “Yes, but she didn’t like how I stood up for James, you know?”

Peter nodded, filling his plate with pumpkin cake again. “Yeah, I thought she’d take points from you, too.”

“She would have, if I was a boy,” said Marlene.

“I wouldn’t provoke her, though,” warned Peter.

“I won’t provoke her, don’t worry,” she answered sharply, propping her crossed arms on the table, and pouting. “I just… I really don’t like her. She reminds me of Aunt Cassandra. Always telling cousin Andre how he’s just like his father…”

“Yes, but don’t provoke her,” Sirius said, suddenly very earnest. “You don’t want to get on her bad side if you can help it. James and I can’t, but you-“

“’James and I’…” Peter shook his head, lips twitching in amusement. “You sound so posh, Sirius.”

“Shut up,” muttered Sirius. He crossed his arms.

“Margania hates _all_ the boys,” Marlene pointed out.

“But she hates James and me especially.”

James, however, merely shrugged. “I think you’re reading too much into it. Margania’s a gorgon, alright, but she can’t just do whatever she likes.”

Marlene raised her brows and raised her cup with pumpkin juice. “Not like you, huh?”

“I operate on a different _level_ , Marlene.”

“Sure you do, Jamesie,” she said and jumped up, as the girls waved at her. “I’ve got to go, they won’t wait for me.”

“I thought she and the girls had had a fight?” Peter asked, watching the girls leave.

“Who cares,” Sirius grumbled and turned to James. “Listen mate, I agree with you about Margania being a gorgon and all that, but I wouldn’t provoke her too much, alright?”

James gave him an odd look. “Since when are you worried about a teacher?”

Sirius shrugged and turned back to his breakfast, but, as James couldn’t help but notice, didn’t eat anything. James waited until the fourth-year sitting beside Sirius left, and leaned in close.

“Did something happen, Sirius?” he whispered. Peter watched attentively.

Sirius shoved him away. “Nothing happened.”

Just then, the owls arrived, and one of them dropped a small packet and a letter on James’ place.

Peter’s eyes widened. “Your parents sent you a present already?”

James weighed the small, vial-shaped packet in his hand and shrugged. “Seems like it,” he said and opened the letter. “But I don’t know… what… for…” His eyes flittered across the lines, narrowing the further he read.

“No!” he cried, opening the packet, revealing a beautiful small bottle. “She sent me Sleekeasy’s Hair Potion!”

Sirius and Peter roared with laughter, but James was inconsolable. He put the fine glass down and cried, “I should’ve our stash away!”

“Wouldn’t have worked,” Sirius laughed. “Your father would’ve made you more.”

*

“Poor Remus,” said Peter anxiously, as they filed into the classroom. Fridays after lunch was their second class of Defense Against the Dark Arts. The boys took their usual seats: Sirius and James as far apart as possible, and Peter sitting next to Kingsley Shacklebolt, on the desk before James. “It’s the third day we have classes and we already have three essays to write and a whole chapter to prepare for.”

Sirius shrugged, propping his hip on James’ desk. “He’ll manage. He’s done so before.”

“Besides, the teachers know about… you know…” James wiggled his brows, “his _problem_. They might make an exception.”

Obviously, Kingsley managed to understand the only part he wasn’t supposed to hear. He turned to them with a curious look and asked, “I heard his mum’s ill, is that true?”

“Usually yes,” Sirius answered flippantly. “This time it’s him who got ill, but no worries, King, he’ll be back in our room before this week is over.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“We’re in touch,” answered James in his stead, leaning back against his chair and stretching his arms. “Poor bloke… he was so upset about having to miss the first days of classes that we almost considered staying behind as moral support.”

Kingsley laughed. “Oh, you’re so kind…”

Sirius clasped James’ shoulder and sighed dramatically. “But Moony wouldn’t have it. He sacrificed himself for our education’s sake… to have us suffer this… oppressive state of the present school system and-”

“You sure you know what you’re saying, mate?” Kingsley asked, eyes bright and laughing. “You keep using these awful big words, do you know what they even mean?”

“By ’oppressive’ you mean? Of course I do! Have you ever met my mother?”

They laughed together, and loud enough to make heads turn.

“Silence!” called Margania suddenly. The boys turned their heads so quickly, their necks ached. There she stood, just by her desk, light hear tied back into a bun held by a long pencil. Her robes were a midnight blue, and puffed by the sleeves like clouds. Her gaze was very stern and didn’t soften an inch as Sirius returned to his place.

“I expect all of you to be seated when I enter the classroom,” Margania said and flipped the book open. Just then, none but Lily Evans, the girl with the flaming red hair, stepped meekly into the classroom. She would have preferred to go unnoticed, but of course everyone looked up.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” Lily said, politely. “I had to accompany a first-year to the Hospital Wing. A boy turned her nails into claws.”

Margania simply nodded and gestured at her to take a seat. “No problem, Ms. Evans.” And, in a mutter, “A boy, of course…”

She cleared her throat. “We’ll continue where we left off last time; I hope,” she said emphatically, “you have all read the chapter I assigned you to read. I expect you to know the characteristics of the defensive spells and tells of -”

There was a giggle somewhere in the back of the room. Her face darkened. “I see _somebody_ thinks that being led astray by Hinkypunks is funny.”

A tense silence fell upon the room, like always when a student is berated in class. The student in question looked up – it was Evan Rosier; and nobody looked as uncomfortable in that moment as he.

“Rosier, tell the class what you find so funny.”

“Nothin’…” he mumbled.

“Nonsense,” she said, sharply. “Maybe it’s a mistake on my part; maybe I’ve not sufficiently explained to you why Hinkypunks are dangerous, or you’re just not interested in…” She waved her wand in a sharp motion and a folded piece of parchment flew from Rosier’s hand into hers. She held it up, for everyone to see. “Did this make you laugh?”

He nodded once, blood rushing to his head and turning him a startling red. Margania hesitated, then put the note on her desk. “You may pick it up after class if you behave.”

She returned to the front of the classroom, and the lesson continued.

*

Margania Graham was not a bad teacher. She was concise in her instructions, and her experience in the field gave her ample examples to give her students. The lessons were divided into a first half of theory and then a second half of practice; and in between a little bit of homework.

Distantly, the three boys worried at how much poor Remus would have to catch up once he was back in Hogwarts. The full moon had been on the day they arrived at the school, but it was Friday and he was not yet back – unusual, even for him.

“He must really be sick then,” James whispered behind Peter, the latter not daring to move an inch in fear of Margania. 

“Professor, I thought the Ministry had marked all the places where Hinkypunks are seen,” Sara Harris said, after raising her hand.

Margania waved a hand. “Hinkypunks wander,” she answered. “It is true, they inhabit mostly bogs and - Potter, where else do Hinkypunks reside?” she asked sharply as she caught James moving restlessly on his chair again.

He was startled for just a second. “In bogs-”

“I said that already.”

He frowned. “And _wetlands_ ,” he said emphatically.

She nodded, and turned back to Sara Harris. “And you need to remember that landscapes change with the climate. It’s not as obvious here in Britain, but in other countries bogs and wetlands go dry, while dry spaces go… wet. In places with a lot of humidity and rivers, where the mist hangs low and heavy, that’s where they’re seen quite often lately. With the urbanization and people abandoning distant villages, I wouldn’t be surprised if in the next couple of decades we’ll also start seeing – Potter! Can’t you just sit still for one moment?”

James tensed up, a flush rising up his neck. He was still for one moment, a long moment for him. Then – it must have been unconsciously – he shifted again.

“Are you bored?” Margania asked him.

“No, professor.”

“Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“What? No!” A wave of suppressed laughter went across the room – Severus Snape’s face lit up with obvious glee - and his flush deepened as did the evident dislike in James’ eyes. Margania’s was no less evident.

“Then sit still for once,” she ordered.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled and tried to focus again on the chapter.

The class continued in relative calmness. Sirius had, of course, not liked at all the way Margania had treated James, and was less than eager to participate in class. It didn’t bother Margania, if she even noticed; for her a good boy was a quiet boy, and Sirius knew how to be quiet, while James had never had to sit still in his entire life.

It showed.

Usually he put a little more effort in sitting still if a teacher asked, but James disliked Margania. So he tried even less than usual. And Margania, of course, noticed. Mostly she ignored him, but always with a side-way glare that promised nothing good. This, Sirius noticed; and the rest of the class, too, but none of them cared as much for James as Sirius. He disliked the professor even more than James.

“Professor Graham-”

Margania started and fixed an angry stare at Peter, who seemed to shrink on his chair.

“Professor Margania,” started Peter and promptly forgot what he wanted to ask. “Our homework?”

The class groaned.

“Indeed, Pettigrew,” she nodded. “Put your homework on your desks and I’ll collect them.”

The children did as they were told. Margania waved her hand, and one by one all the written assignments landed on her outstretched hands. She counted through them-

“Ms. Carrow, I see your assignment is missing.”

Alecto Carrow was a short girl with broad shoulders for her age. Her hair was tied in a messy braid, for she hadn’t gotten quite the hang out of braiding her own hair, yet. She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said, making an effort to speak loud and clear, like Margania had ordered them to. “My pumpkin juice fell on my bag and got everything wet. Even my homework.” As proof, she lifted her school book, the hardcover an ugly brown and the pages all wrinkled.

“Who did this?” Margania asked, frowning.

Alecto glared at James Potter.

“Aw, come on!” he cried, as Margania turned to glare at him in turn. “It wasn’t even aimed at you!”

“Ten points off Gryffindor,” said Margania

His eyes widened as an angry murmur went through the Gryffindor students. “But why?” he asked.

“You don’t know how to behave.”

“Oh and taking points off Gryffindor will teach me?”

Her brows arched in disbelief. “Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

James bit his lip. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that,” he said, eventually.

“Meet me after class to talk about your detention,” Margania said.

James bit back a groan.

“I expect your assignment to be well done, Potter,” she said, warningly. He shrugged and nodded.

Margania continued to go through the homework, until she stopped at one parchment – James’. She looked at him with furrowed brows.

“What’s this?” she asked, raising the parchment. It was, in short, a scribbled, blotchy, mess. There was even a tiny drawing in one corner.

“My assignment,” he answered, matter-of-factly. “You said eleven inches-”

“I know that, but…” She read through it. “Have you got any clue what you wrote here?”

“I do! You asked us to write about the second chapter, give a summary and then-”

“Potter, do you know how to write ‘secluded’?”

“Yeah.”

“Write it.”

“What?”

She stopped at his desk, placing the unwritten side of the parchment on his desk. “Write down ‘secluded’.”

He hesitatingly scribbled down the word. Her brows arched again. It was written correctly.

“And look at this?” she pointed at something on his parchment. “What’s this?”

He looked, as did his neighbor, and Kingsley and Peter. “That’s… uh… a duck, I think?” He looked a bit confused and embarrassed.

“What’s the rules for handing out assignments?” asked Margania.

James leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms. “Legible, no doodles, and always in the format. And the name, obviously.”

“You forgot about _everything_ except your name, which, as I notice, you managed to write correctly.” James lowered his head, fingers digging into his arms. “You will stay back and rewrite your homework until I’m happy with it.”

James groaned, and rolled his eyes once her back was turned to him.

He still couldn’t sit still in class.

*

“I can’t wait till Remus gets back,” said Peter to Sirius after class was over. Sirius still wore a scowl, and he would continue to wear it until James returned, dejected and angry, and fingers and head sore from all the writing.

“Naïve of you to think anything will change with Moony, Peter,” Sirius said, bumping his shoulder against a Severus Snape, and making a face in response to the glare. “If anything she’ll like Remus even less than James.”

“You think all teachers know about… Remus?”

“I mean, he takes their classes, so yeah, they do know about Remus, Peter,” Sirius replied mockingly.

“Not that, I mean about… his _thing_.”

Sirius paused. “I hope not… though it would make sense with Slughorn.”

“Slughorn doesn’t like anybody who doesn’t do well in a subject,” argued Peter.

“True,” admitted Sirius.

“I wish I was good at something,” said Peter miserably. “He always ignores me.”

Sirius almost – almost – said something mean, but James caught up with them, gasping and quite in a mood. Sirius looked at him carefully.

“You okay, mate?”

James shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Never been better,” he gritted. “That old… she made me rewrite my homework three times! Three times, Sirius! And she always got upset, because sometimes I just… dunno… forgot to write a word and did something else.” He shook his head, glasses quivering, and lips a thin line.

“I hope Remus comes back soon,” he said, finally. “He always tries to see things the good way, you know? Even when he doesn’t do that for himself.”

Sirius felt a slight pang of jealousy, but brushed it aside fairly quick. He recognized how angry James was inside – perhaps, indignant was a more appropriate word; and began to think of ways to cheer James up.

The dungbombs! And that firework spell Pete had found in Mrs. Potter’s old book. Sirius grinned, dragging his friends along by their sleeves. He had just the right, perfect idea.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... sorry for the delay. I read through it twice, so any mistakes were left there... by mistake.
> 
> Enjoy!

Remus Lupin returned on the first weekend, and his friends welcomed him as if he had returned from war. McGonagall herself couldn’t blame them; Lupin was – or so she felt at least – the voice of reason in that group – even if his attempts fell short.

Most teachers were aware of Lupin’s condition, but not all, for some of them were not trustworthy. Margania would not have been told, but she knew anyway from her work in the Ministry of Magic; and this only worked against him.

Dumbledore had forbade her to mention anything, and she kept her word. This did not stop her from eying Lupin suspiciously whenever he so much as raised his voice or shifted in his chair.

Young Lupin did not excel in class of Defense Against the Dark Arts the same way his two best friends or Severus Snape did (who was always side-eying Remus Lupin as well), but whenever he used a spell it was done meticulously. As such he was a more pleasant student than his friends. He had a tidy, if a bit scrabbly, handwriting, but almost no spelling or grammatical errors – unlike James Potter.

Remus Lupin always aided his dear friend with his spelling and his grammar. Remus Lupin paid attention to those things, while James Potter could simply not bother with it.

“Y’know James,” said Remus as he put down the Potions essay James had written, “your essays would be much better if you just bothered with being clean.”

“I don’t know, Remus,” said James. He currently lay on the couch in the common room, legs hanging off the back, and head on the coffee table. “My ideas are too fast for my quill. My hand can’t keep up. As soon as I put down the first word I’m thinking of somethin’ else again.”

“That much is obvious,” replied Remus, eying the “ _Snivellus stirs his hair clockwhite”_ written where the ‘ _stir twice clockwise and then four time counter-clockwise, and put fire out immediately less you want the potion to explode’_ \- part should have been. “You wrote ‘paper’ wrong, by the way – ‘ _paber_ ’,” he added, chuckling and shaking his head. “And what’s this? I can’t tell if it’s a donkey or a -”

“That’s supposed to be a werewolf talking to the moon, Remus,” James replied sharply. "Wait, didn't I erase it from the parchment?"

Remus squinted his eyes. Sirius, previously uninterested in James’ homework, leaned in to see for himself.

“I don’t know where you get donkeys and werewolves,” he commented, shaking his head. “That looks like Snivellus brushing his hair to me.”

“No way you see that!” cried Remus and James at once.

“Go away, Sirius,” said Remus, shoving his friend away. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“I’d rather die,” said Sirius and flopped back down on his spot.

“I don’t understand why _you_ don’t help James out,” argued Remus. “Your assignments are always perfect.”

“Nobody has better handwriting than Sirius,” agreed Peter, struggling enormously with his Transformation homework. “Last time I read one of your assignments I almost cried from how perfect it was.”

“You did cry, didn’t you?” said James.

“No, I cried because I’d finished reading ‘the Hobbit’,” Peter replied, tossing back his head with a remonstrative glare.

“What’s ‘the Hobbit?’” asked James and Sirius.

Remus and Peter stared at them as if they had grown four heads and lost two arms each. They exchanged a look.

“Purebloods,” they said, simultaneously.

*

On Tuesday they had Defense against the Dark Arts again – no one in their group could manage a hint of excitement despite the interesting subjects. Remus was still behind, and with McGonagall’s recent homework addition...

“She could’ve at least made an exception,” argued Peter as they walked down the corridor to the classroom. The door was still locked; the other students were already gathered before it.

Remus tightened his lips, adjusting the bag on his shoulders. He was already looking much better than before, less pale and the spark in his eyes had returned. “I don’t want more exceptions!” he argued right back. “It’s already bad enough that-”

Marlene McKinnon walked up to them, blond hair in tight braids. Remus' mouth snapped shut. 

“I hope you’ve done your homework,” she said as a greeting. “Lily’s just heard from some forth year that Margana-”

“Margania,” Sirius corrected with an insufferable sigh.

“- is in a really bad mood.”

“Woke up on the wrong arm, I guess,” said James.

“On the wrong leg, mate,” Sirius corrected yet again, but with a little more forgiveness than with Marlene. James grinned, then looked at Marlene and frowned.

“What’s _that_?” he asked, rudely.

She rolled her eyes and tugged at a flower stuck in a braid. “A flower, obviously,” she sniffed, then softened as she slid the daisy out. “Lily got lots of them – she tried a new spell, you see? – and we used it for our braids.”

Sirius muttered something and grinned.

Marlene glared at him. She decided to ignore him, and handed James and Remus a daisy each.

“I heard you were sick, Remus,” she said, the only thing hinting at her shyness was the shuffling of her feet. “The daisy will make you look pretty.”

His friends cooed and hooted, making Remus blush all the more. James stuck the daisy behind Remus’ ear, wrapping an arm round his shoulders and dragging him along when the door to the classroom finally opened.

“See, mate?” he said, sticking the flower on his robe. “Now you and I are equally pretty. What do you think, Sirius? Be honest.”

“Always, mate,” Sirius said with a dramatic flair. “The prettiest of you two is still – me.”

They laughed loudly, drawing disapproving glares from some of the girls (Lily was among them, but who cared about her) and a haughty one from Severus Snape (and the boys cared even less about him.)

Kingsley, who was already seated like the good student he was, brightened as he noticed the flowers on Remus and James.

“Back from the beauty shop?” he asked.

James sat down at the table behind him and Peter. He adjusted the flower: with it he felt a lot like his father, who always attached a flower to his festive robes.

“Marlene got it from Evans, Evans charmed them.”

“Oh really? What were they like before?” asked Kingsley, eying the delicate flower when James handed it to him.

He shrugged. “Who cares?”

“Margania will,” Peter said, eyes glancing nervously at the door.

James snorted and stuck the daisy back on his robe. “She cares about everything,” he said.

“And not in a good way,” Kingsley said. “Did you hear how she yelled at Malfoy today?”

“Yeah, I heard something, but…” James and Peter leaned it closely, eager for more. “Not the details.”

“Well, I don’t know the details either, but I heard from Prewett that she put him on the spot for – well, he didn’t know what Malfoy did either, but he heard from Evelyn that Margania caught Malfoy smuggling…” He raised his brows. “Tobacco.”

Peter and James’ eyes widened. “Doesn’t sound much like Malfoy,” James said. “The Malfoys are more _winers_ than smokers.”

Peter and Kingsley stared at him. “What?”

He stared right back, as if they were the ones not making sense. “What?” he replied.

“What was that word?” asked Kingsley.

James frowned. “What word?”

“You said – w-winers?”

“Oh!” His eyes widened in recognition. “Uh, yeah, they drink a lot of wine, I guess. I’ve an aunt in Italy somewhere, she said something about the Malfoys having a graveyard there.”

Kingsley barked out a laugh. “A graveyard?”

James’s cheeks turned a light pink, but he too was grinning. He reached out far to punch him. "Vineyard, you arse-"

“Language, Potter! If you can’t write it, then at least speak it correctly!”

James jumped in his seat, blood rushing up to his face like a flood, while Kingsley and Peter turned their heads back to the front so quickly their necks cracked.

Yes, Professor Margania had arrived, in all her glory: midnight robe with smooth, tight sleeves and a high neck, and a gold necklace. Her hair was pulled back as always, but not as elegantly: there were a few lose strands brushing her forehead and cheek. James felt humiliation stream through him when he thought her pretty.

Merlin, if Sirius ever found out…

“Five points from Gryffindor,” she said and opened her book.

The Gryffindors present groaned, and Kingsley gave James an apologetic look. Margania hit the table with her wand twice – a howling sound that made everyone jump and flinch, until everyone quieted.

“We’ll get the homework out of the way first, then we will focus on the task at hand.” She clapped her hands and all the rolls of parchment lifted and floated from the students’ desks to Margania’s, where they piled up and were tied by magic with a silver net.

James looked back to where Sirius was seated. Their eyes met, as they usually did. James grinned. “House elves!” he said, loudly, but wanting to say it quietly. Margania heard. In fact, everybody heard.

The teacher sighed and pinched her nose. “Potter, do you take anything seriously?” she asked.

James turned back on his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, leg bouncing. “Of course I do!” he answered, trying to keep his indignation hidden. He suspected, going by Margania’s tightening lips, that he did not really succeed. “Of course I do…” he mumbled.

“Then what’s that talk about house elves, Potter?” she demanded to know. “You brain is like a beehive: a lot of humming, a lot of buzzing, slightly structured, but otherwise chaos!”

Sirius balled his fists and looked at Remus. Remus, however, was staring at his table. Sirius felt betrayed, and found surprisingly solace in Marlene. She did not look happy either and shook her head.

“Bees make honey!” snapped James, and Remus gripped his table harder. This time he looked to Sirius and they both exchanged helpless shrugs.

 _James, please shut up!_ He tried to tell his friend via brain waves. James didn’t hear; his brain had a different frequency.

“You have yet to produce in class anything like it!” Margania yelled, flushing.

“That’s a lie!” he cried. “My exercises are always almost perfect immediately! At first try!”

“That’s – you… you arrogant little toad!”

“Quack.” James slapped a hand to his mouth.

The whole class held their breath.

Margania inhaled sharply. Her neck was red, and the blotches were spreading on her face.

“Potter--”

He grimaced. “Attention? I mean – detention?”

She pursed her lips and went back to her desk. “Meet me after class.”

“Ah, so you’re not taking any points off?”

The boy sitting beside James elbowed him hard. “Shut up!” he hissed.

“Yes, Potter. Listen to Aubrey; he is right about something for once.”

Jim Aubrey blushed and crossed his arms. James glared at Margania’s back, hoped with a thousand fires that she could feel it and made her cold.  

*

Remus huffed a sigh as they walked out of DADA class. “What a mess…”

Sirius nodded, stuffing his quill and parchment carelessly into his back. A Slytherin bumped into Pettigrew and laughed when the boy stumbled and dropped his things. Sirius, in retaliation, threw his vial of ink at him. Black ink spread on the floor. Another mess. 

“Black!” Flitwick’s voice, though squeaky, did not lack in fierceness. He made the spilled ink disappear with a flick of the wand and took 10 points from Gryffindor.

“You already have detention I have heard,” Flitwick squeaked. “Next time I won’t be so kind.”

“Yes, Moony, what a mess,” Sirius said, having already forgotten about the house points. “That Margania troll… I’d rather eat with my grandmother than with her!”

“Luckily, you won’t ever have to,” replied Remus, leaning against the wall while the three waited for James. “How bad do you think it is?”

“You think he’ll get detention?” Peter asked.

“That would be the second time in the three weeks,” Remus said, worriedly. “Do you think she’d go to Dumbledore?”

Sirius scoffed. “He hasn’t done anything bad enough to waste Dumbledore’s time.” He crossed his arms. “I bet James gets detention again. Probably even extra homework.”

Remus sighed. “Great. More homework for me to spell-check.”

Just then James walked out. The door fell shut behind him. Sirius studied him. He still had a light flush, a flash of irritation in his eyes, but otherwise looked completely-

“- fine. The old cow just wants me to come in earlier.”

 Remus fished a cookie out of his bag and pressed it into his hand.

Sirius frowned, threw an arm over his shoulder. They matched their steps. “Why?”

James shrugged. Already the worry was fading; he was becoming good old James again.

“No idea, mate. Maybe she’ll give me extra work or something.” He shrugged. “Who cares anyway?”

Remus looked worried. “James, she’s a _teacher_.”

“She’s an auror,” Peter emphasised. “She must have… so many connections in the Ministry…”

James made a face. “So do _my_ parents,” he said. “Any my parents are a lot nicer than _she_.” He looked down on himself and froze. "Oh no!" he cried.

"What?" his friends replied. Peter's stomach growled.

James' shoulders dropped. "I lost the daisy! Marlene's going to kill me."

Remus patted his back. "Marlene won't notice, James," he said. 

Sirius made a face, "You don't know much about women, do you Moony? Girls notice everything all the time. Especially if you don't want them to notice. And my mother is the worst of them all."


End file.
